Four days.
She entered his quarters on the pretext of engaging him in a light sparring match. She was becoming better at reading his movements, admiring the indolence in which he fought one-handed. Ulquiorra was ever spare in his attacks, never brutalizing like some of the Espada.
On this day she was rewarded with the sight of clothing, sandals, socks, everything she would ever need brought by a servant into his quarters.
"What's all this?" She asked unable to keep the smile out of her voice.
"It's easier to watch over you from here."
Was it? She wondered. As with all his excuses, she felt they were just that. Words could be construed in any number of meanings.
"I have no other pressing duties."
Her eyes darted to his coyly, insinuating with the slightest angle of her body.
"Let's train," she said instead. The space between their bodies at night was enough. A slim gap, the pressure of his weight shifting. She had grown used the sharp tang of his scent left behind on the pillows. It felt almost like home. The word made something painful rise in her throat. She wondered if it was at all possible for her to have two places she wanted to be.
With him and with…,
"It's enough," she said to herself, toweling her hair. It had to be enough for the rest of her existence.
…
"Will you…," she was afraid to ask the question. They were spent from lovemaking. The air was warm, richly scented with the sweat from their bodies. Rukia rolled onto her side, facing him. She never feared so much as she did at that moment.
"Will you kill me?" The unspoken burden of fate hung between them. Rukia had counted the days, pragmatic to the threat of impending demise. Ulquiorra didn't answer right away. She went on, hesitatingly. "I'd rather you…than anyone else. I know it'll be quick." Over in the blink of an eye. She admired his deadly grace, knowing it was somewhat of a twisted blessing he could be her executioner.
His hand found hers in the dark.
…
It was different. The air he consumed thoughtlessly before had a tinge of expectation. The feeling was subtle although undeniably present. He looked forward to arising each day, performing his tasks with an alacrity of speed that some noted. Any pressing demands that were met entitled further time spent with her. Rukia's company had become to him a need, the same as his reiatsu, his shadow or part of him that was impossible to be without.
They trained in the afternoon, her perfected speed an imitation of his sonido. Imperfect, but Rukia was happy. He could see her happiness, feel it glow off the surface of her reiatsu like the glow of the sun on white snow. She smiled easily, joked, taunted shallowly. She liked to feel she could get a rise out of him, provoking him into heated attacks. Ulquiorra, a consummate fighter, kept her on her toes.
Exhausted, they would bathe separately, consume small bits of food in silence, then fall into bed. He had previously rested in silence, rarely dreaming beyond a few sparse images from his former existence. If he dreamed now, he thought of her.
Rukia's proximity affected him.
He refused to remember her days were numbered until she asked that question. Her complacency with her death- her second death disturbed him.
"Kill me."
He…couldn't.
In everything he obeyed Aizen, except this. He couldn't kill her. Couldn't save her. Only the trash Kurosaki could play the hero. The boy was unwittingly the only thing that could save Rukia from her inevitable end.
…
One day.
He felt the tightness in his skin, in the tone of his voice. The servants scurried away from him, frightened to incur his wrath. Ulquiorra was coldly rational, carrying out his duties with avoidance to the throne room. Aizen was there somewhere, his reiatsu hidden away with the Hogyoku. The man's obsession with it dominated his waking hours. Ulquiorra doubted the cause would ever bring stability. Inoue had done little despite her supposed importance; her demise had proved her ultimate uselessness.
He stopped that line of thought. No, it wasn't true. At least not in the sense where Rukia was concerned. If not for the human, Rukia would never have come into his sphere. His perfect memory went through the store of images he had of her, reliving them in a second of life.
All the ugly, hateful and beautiful things that belonged to one person.
Rukia was alive and for the time being, he would do almost anything to insure she remained that way.
…
She sat in a discreet corner of the Octava's lab, drawing quietly on a pad of paper. She was safer there than anywhere else in Las Noches. Despite Szayel's mad scientist demeanor, she almost trusted him. He wouldn't cross Ulquiorra.
Her mind stubbornly refused to stay on her original subject of her friends. Brown became green; she imagined his face in place of Ichigo. Irritated, Rukia crumpled up her piece of paper and tossed it across the room. She began again, drawing the curve of the brow and the shape of the eye. "Wrong…," she muttered. Everything was wrong including how she felt.
Rukia Kuchiki never wanted anything.
So, when had it come to her needing him?
"Stupid." She scribbled out the face she had come to know in such a short time as familiar as - as - Renji's, someone she had spent a childhood running around with. "Stupid." That morning she had allowed herself to dream. It had been easy to dream useless wishes lying on the pillow that smelled like him in the darkness and quiet of their own hushed breath.
The Hogyoku, Aizen, nor death existed in her tiny world. She could pretend, eyes closed, the divide between their races no longer existed.
…
Szayel could feel Rukia in his lab. She was safe there insofar from the other Espada would knew of his penchant for experimenting on them. He resided in the main complex surrounded by beakers of fluid, a Bunsen burner and charts filled with his neat precise writing. He had been observing the effects of his recent creation, but had found his mind wandering.
Failure wasn't a word in his vocabulary.
He could think of a dozen different calculations, formulas administered that would create the desired result. But, the tricky part was accomplishing his aims without Ulquiorra's interference. Szayel wasn't certain the Cuatro would stand idly by while the body of the Soul Reaper underwent changes. Would he follow Aizen's orders? The Cuatro had been heretofore flawless in his execution of duties. Complications and more complications, thought the scientist. For not the first time he wondered what Aizen wanted with Rukia's baby.
The ground shook in the distance taking him from his musings. Szayel's gaze flickered to the beaker closest to him. The glass tinkled, the translucent blue fluid trembled.
He knew without the synchronized consciousness alerting him to the fact of sudden proximity of ryoka.
Again?
He thought this so-called human must have a death wish.
…
Deep down, he knew he was alone. Hitsugaya - kami alone knew how he planned it, created the diversion in separate points of Seireitei. Ichigo agreed to dress as a goon, one of Fong's goons, only to pass unnoticed through several checkpoints. Some of them were suspicious, he figured. But, in the general chaos, even the experimental reiatsu-suppressor worked like a charm.
Once again, Ichigo was in the world of the Hollows.
…
She sensed him with a jolt of surprise. It was Ichigo. There was no mistaking his reiatsu in the compound of Las Noches. He was somewhere in the labyrinth of twisting corridors and towers. Rukia stood up quickly, her heart beating unnaturally fast. He had come for her…? For Inoue? Both…did he know…yes, Ichigo wasn't one to despair.
Her colored pencils rolled away across the floor. Rukia hardly gave them a second thought, hurrying toward the entrance to Szayel's lab. The Espada was waiting for her there, having left his own scientific projects behind.
"Don't try to stop me," Rukia warned, drawing up short. A dozen spells went through her head as she sized up the pink-haired Arrancar. Whatever thoughts went through his head at that moment as well eluded her. Szayel dropped the façade of hostility, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't much care. But, Kuchiki-san," Lumina and Verona shuffled from the opposite doorway leading deeper into his lab. The fracciones carried her zanpakuto.
"Wherever you go, stay armed. It's dangerous out there."
…
His rational, analytic mind went through each and every scenario. One, he was confronting Kurosaki…their blades end in a draw. Two, he was ordered to destroy Rukia before Kurosaki's eyes, then subdue the trash for Aizen's greater plan. The final…he went through the anticipated motions, evaluating them for reasonability.
He could lead Kurosaki to her.
Aizen, though likely aware of the break-in, hadn't seen fit to respond with directives other than the Exequias being sent en route to destroy the ryoka.
He could save her.
The result eliminated the need for her imminent death at his hands. He could…save her. The thought was intoxicating with its power.
Yes.
Ulquiorra's silent sonido carried him from the kitchens where he had been arranging a meal of her favorites. He traversed the corridors swiftly, bypassing the ones where he could sense his fellow Espada roaming. They were aware too of Kurosaki, but Grimmjow had learned from his mistakes last time. There would be no impediments without a direct order to attack.
As he neared the place where Kurosaki ran aimlessly, he elevated his spirit pressure to alert the trash of his approach. Kurosaki's head whipped toward him like a dog scenting prey. Once, he had stood on those very steps regarding the trash, mocking him for his bonds of the heart. The Soul Reaper wore the tight black garments of a shinobi, but had discarded the face mask. His bright orange hair crowned his head in a range of spikes, his lips drew back in a snarl of recognition.
"Ulquiorra!"
So he remembered him.
Good.
He vanished from sight, listening sharply as the trash ran up the staircase, shouting imprecations after him. It was good enough. He was bait, leading him on. Ulquiorra kept one step ahead of him, casting his senses far for Rukia's location. He couldn't be seen as manipulating her rescue, but could hardly be accused of disobeying orders. At any moment, he knew Aizen could issue a kill on sight command. The longer he tarried, the more he believed his plan was doomed to fail.
At last, he found her outside the hallway of his palace. She had run there from Szayel's palace, winded, her zanpakuto strapped to her waist. She faltered, her steps slowing. Her hand twitched toward the hilt of her sword and then stopped, falling to the side.
The silence was filled with the gravity of everything they had done. Ulquiorra drew near, close enough to see the conflict simmering her eyes. How many times had he run his hands through her hair, caressed her skin, taken her with pleasure? Aizen had opened his eyes to the lusts of the body; the physicality of union shared by them seemed far above the contemptible lust of a man and woman.
It was over. It had to be over between them for the sake of her life and the duty toward his master.
His lips touched hers once, and then he was gone.
Rukia's hands closed on nothing.
"Ulqui-" she had to stop herself from calling out to him. Ichigo was there suddenly. His overwhelming reiatsu flush against her skin, bright like a beacon to her soul. He was there for her with no one else.
"What're you?" She asked weakly, distracting her mind from the absence around her. "A one man army?"
"If that's what it takes." Ichigo said his cocksure smile so familiar it took her back to her rescue on Sokyoku Hill. "Now I don't suppose you know where Inoue is-"
Her heart plummeted.
In the midst of her final days, she had forgotten Orihime. She had been so blissfully happy and that had been a rare thing in her life…,
"Ichigo, she's…she's dead." Rukia almost couldn't bring herself to say it. She hadn't wanted to be the one who hurt him so knowing they had both failed her. The bubbly affectionate girl would never brighten their lives again.
"Rukia-"
She shook her head swiftly. This wasn't the time or place to grieve. Maybe when her head had stopped spinning from the sudden turn of events, maybe when she could force herself to forget him, she would only remember horror and fear from captivity. "Let's go." Her hand on his arm stirred him into action. Ichigo tossed one last look of loathing around the white walled corridor, he had grown enough to know when it was time to retreat, regroup and then strike back instead of blindly charging in.
Wordlessly, he turned and shunpo'd back to his place of entry. Rukia kept up effortlessly with him, her body falling into the motions of flight without second thought. Within seconds, she had a glimpse of light and blue sky. Ichigo paused long enough for her to slip through the dimensional gateway and then he followed, resealing the portal.
"That was easier than-" last time. Rukia exhaled sharply. They were flanked by a dozen armed officers. Among the faces, she recognized Kira, Hisagi and Iba. Matsumoto and Captain Hitsugaya were held back by members of the Punishment Division. Hitsugaya nodded an acknowledgment her way. The young Captain had always seemed a stickler for rules, maybe she misjudged him.
The two people she didn't see were Byakuya and Renji.
"Ichigo-" Rukia didn't see relief in their faces. She saw suspicion in formerly friendly eyes. What's going on? The words on the tip of her tongue were destined to stay there. A storm of swords separated her from him. Ichigo drew Zangetsu in one fluid motion, but someone was already there beside her, someone who she hadn't expected to see.
Captain Unohana looked down into her face somberly. "I'm sorry, Ms. Kuchiki." The next second something sharp pierced the back of her neck and she knew no more.
…
Hours had passed since Rukia's return. Byakuya hadn't known what to think or feel when Kurosaki had foolishly charged back into Aizen's realm, evading the custody of Captain Hitsugaya. Collusion was suspected, Second Division was still investigating before formal charges were filed. In this, Byakuya felt a slight censure of the justice system was due. Hitsugaya had acted rashly, endangering his reputation, but the result had been worth it. Hadn't it? He was returning from visiting Hisana's shrine when the shadows lengthened.
The shinobi slipped silently by his side, clad in the form-fitting garments and mask emblazoned with the clan's crest. The shinobi was the soul of discretion, bringing him an update on Rukia's condition after she had been taken into custody by Captain Unohana for medical evaluation.
"Kuchiki-sama, there are unexpected complications concerning your sister." The shinobi had trained all emotion from his voice. Byakuya hesitated, a slight furrow creasing his brow. He disliked the word. Complications? Was she sick? Had Aizen done something unpleasant to her? Was Rukia damaged?
"What are they?" He expected house arrest, a proverbial slap on the wrist for her actions concerning her attempted retrieval of Orihime Inoue. But, not an outright arrest warrant which had seemed to be the case.
"Captain Unohana has determined from examination that Rukia Kuchiki-sama is pregnant."
-TBC
Her eyes opened after too long it seemed.
Hanataro Yamada dropped the tray he was carrying. The contents bounced all over the floor. He nearly wept from sheer joy.
"Miss Rukia is awake!"
His shout rang throughout the ward, some who heard it shook their heads knowing Second Division had to be alerted. As for Rukia, she stretched her sore muscles, her body had atrophied, and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.
She ate some of the food brought to her, aware of Hanataro's anxious looks. The taste of each spoonful eluded her, her mind buzzed with questions that he refused to answer.
"For now focus on your recovery." Hanataro soothed, smiling in his timid way.
Recover from what? She ran through her closest memories, nothing matched the ache in her abdomen or the delicate treatment she was receiving. Hanataro's silence worried her. Something had happened in between her last memory and the present surrounding her. Hanataro left with a few admonitions that he would visit after finishing his rounds. Rukia watched him go with a mixed feeling of relief and sadness. When had it become a trial to endure the company of someone she had considered a friend?
I've gone through too much, she realized, stunned by her own callousness. Silence had lapsed in between their words, a quiet that stretched thin the camaraderie they used to share.
Her reverie was broken by the opening of the door. Hanataro had said to expect a visit from his Captain, but beside her was the sharp featured scowl of the Captain of the Punishment Division, Soi Fong. Unohana greeted her much as she always had, familiarly, with a slightly strained smile. Fong said nothing, her presence alone a buffer against friendliness.
Rukia looked from one face to another, her hand dropping of its own accord to her stomach, the belly that had been flat before but now had a slight protuberance to it. Soi Fong didn't miss the motion, her sharp onyx eyes lifting to Rukia's with a faint smirk curling her tight lips.
"Captain Unohana, what's going on? Why am I…," she couldn't say more. The healer looked tired, worn down in spirit. "Rukia, this may come as a shock to you, but your body is recovering from an induced pregnancy."
The word roared an ocean in her ears. Everything she had surmised or imagined fell into place. She felt different. Her body had rounded, losing its bone-thinness, her breasts were fuller, rounder than before. Szayel 's look of regret haunted her.
"I don't understand…," but she did. Forced into sexual submission by the enemy…consensual sex. She almost blushed remembering her own dirty mind.
Captain Fong smirked, "you don't, do you? You poor stupid innocent…then let me make it clearer than Unohana. You're currently under arrest for treasonous acts carried out with a soldier under Aizen's command."
"What about -" she almost couldn't say the word. "My baby?"
"It was terminated as per Captain Yamamoto's instructions."
…
For minutes, she couldn't speak. Rukia was paralyzed by the moment in which she had been a mother and the next where someone else had made the decision for her.
"Treason?" She croaked. The word itself was vile; a reminder of her old sentencing, a formality for a perfect society to dispense with lawbreakers. "How? Why?"
"You were presumed dead, a memorial service was held in your honor. Kurosaki said it himself; you were not bound by any fetters. You were…reluctant to leave the traitor's palace."
Rukia felt the words sink into her. Damned Ichigo…anything he might've said could be construed against her. It was true, she wasn't bound by shackles, but what was the use of running when they would've captured her and degraded her more. A terrible futility came upon her. "You don't understand!" She burst out. "I was -," raped, "I was -" but she could see it was too late.
You don't understand.
I do, all too well.
"What about the war? How long was I out?!"
She remembered the flash of the needle sinking into the back of her neck, the fleeting acute sense of betrayal.
"Three weeks. The war is over. We defeated Aizen's forces in a decisive battle over a fake Karakura Town created in place of the town. Those who were left, retreated like whipped dogs into Hueco Mundo. If not for your precipitated return, we might've believed in a lie."
Some of them were still alive…
Some of …
"The war isn't over yet." Rukia breathed, pushing back the covers. She started to rise only for the small militant woman to block her. "You're not going anywhere."
"To hell with you! I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Kuchiki-san, please don't excite yourself." Unohana ordered, sedate as always. "Captain Fong, I must protest as well. Kuchiki-san is still a patient of mine recovering from a traumatic experience. You are not free to question her in this ward."
"Fine." Soi Fong said indifferently. "But, she won't be here indefinitely."
Rukia sank back down onto the hospital bed. "I want to speak to my brother."
"He refuses to see you."
Her heart sank at those words.
"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san."
Rukia felt Unohana was the only one who was.
…
I'm alone, aren't I?
They had stationed guards outside her door night and day. Ichigo exchanged insults with them, sensing somehow he was to blame for the charges leveled against her. By nine pm, Unohana prevailed by threat of medical care for Second Division to allow him to see her.
Rukia sat on the edge of the bed, fighting the urge to peek beneath the bandages around her middle. It still hurt something fierce, but the other ache that manifested itself in the region of her heart was much worse.
Ichigo entered silently, his expression downcast.
"How are you doing?"
"How do you think I'm doing?" She managed with a shade of old sarcasm. She had woken up to find her world changed. "I've had better days."
He was awkward as always, scratching the back of his neck. "I think we all have. Listen, about Inoue…,"
"I know." She was gone, dead, but not forgotten. Rukia hadn't forgiven her oversight in letting her down; those halcyon days of them training together were distant memories. Once, Ichigo realized she wasn't going to start railing at him for failing their friend; he sat down across from her.
"They told me the sentence might be overturned."
"What proof do they have?" Words were words. She wondered if her pregnancy had served as a reminder that actions spoke loudest. What did they think? That she had a choice? That Stockholm syndrome had set in? No one knew the complicated, ugly yet beautiful truth of the matter except for them. Was it possible to love thine enemy?
"Ichigo -"
"Rukia-"
Chagrined, she decided to be the adult in the conversation, waving her hand. "Go ahead."
"They told me," his eyes snared hers, burning with painful knowledge. He knew the answer already. "They said you were…," the tips of his ears burned a bright red. Determinedly misguided, he plowed on. "You were pregnant. Rukia, what happened to you?" His jaw clenched, pain shadowed his face. "Was it his? Rukia, that bastard kidnapped Inoue!" His voice rose on a single accusing note. "She's dead now! Aizen-,"
"He didn't kill her." Ulquiorra was truthful to a fault. He wouldn't tell a lie when the truth no matter how brutal served the same purpose. "Two Arrancars killed her. I don't know why, they weren't ordered to do so."
"You believed him?" Ichigo looked aghast; the color had drained from his face. She thought he was almost sickened. Predictably her temper flared.
"Let me remind you that some of us didn't have the luxury of knowing who or what to trust!"
"Are you blaming me for leaving you behind?" He nigh shouted. "Don't go there! I was the only one who hadn't given up hope!"
The only one…, Rukia bit back her fury, her lips shaking. Shouting wouldn't right the wrongs, wouldn't erase the pain she felt knowing she had been written off as dead. Bitterly, she had begun to realize Soi Fong was right all along. "You'll never know what happened to me."
Ichigo's eyes warred with her, wishing he could return to the time before the war, the time when they completed each other's sentences, when they acted as one mind, fighting side by side, shouting at each other. When it had almost felt like something destined to be. He had never seen her so untouchable, an island into herself.
Ichigo was almost afraid of the answer to her secret.
"You know the thing I can't wrap my head around was that this guy, Schiffer….it was like he was leading me to you all along. And instead of fighting me, he just let you go without a fight."
He…let me go. She couldn't continue meeting Ichigo's steady gaze.
"Did you know…what they were going to do to me?" She had little remembrance of anything. If she probed the memory enough, physical pain arose with it.
"Well," he looked so awkward at her line of questioning she almost felt sorry for him. "No, I didn't find out until Unohana examined you." His voice dropped a decibel lower. "I didn't get to see you until after the surgery."
She forced herself to nod. So they had cut it out of her. She knew a little of human methods, assuming a crude C-section which explained the pain in her stomach. Lightly touching her abdomen, she imagined the needle that had put her under, the scalpel that had sliced into her belly.
"He has it in a jar in his collection." Ichigo was saying with distaste. "We tried to convince him to release it, but he refused. Ishida was right, Kurotsuchi is a fucking nut."
My baby…
"Rukia?"
Grasping the edges of her robe in her fist, she felt the world come crashing down around her. It wasn't enough that they cut her open, no, they had to mount the symbol of her debasement, her pain, her love as a sick trophy. Rukia never cried, ever. She had sworn never to cry since Ichimaru's violation of her.
But, now…,
"Rukia?!" Ichigo was at turns horrified and awed by the sight of her tears.
It was too much.
She tottered unsteadily, her vision wavering. He got to his feet, thinking to catch her, but she slipped through his grasp. She was herself, but not at the same time. Coldly rational and detached, she was out the door before her mind had even given her body approval to move.
I want to see it. I want to see what you've taken from me. She shunpo'd past the Second Division officers, running blindly through the ward. She had barely set foot outside when someone materialized. Fong had arrived with her twin tailed braids caught in the momentum of her shunpo. She had one hand on her zanpakuto, prepared to draw it without hesitation.
"Going somewhere?"
"No, I just needed some fresh air." Rukia snapped, her insides shaking so badly, she wanted to hug her arms around her body. Another part of her whispered she was stronger than the emotions roiling inside her gut. She could forget and forgive. But, forgiveness was such a bitter pill to swallow.
"Why wasn't the decision to terminate mine to make?" The words came in a cold rush from her lips. She knew they were drawing a crowd. Soul Reapers who were passing by, who had seen her run barefooted out of the ward into the street. Rukia's breeding whispered a member of the Kuchiki clan had more pride than to shout in the street.
"It was for the better of all. Would you rather have given birth to an abomination?"
"Maybe I would have."
"Is that an admission of guilt?"
The small woman of steel tightened her grip on her sword hilt. Rukia felt the beckoning of safety, the cover of falsehood beneath Unohana's roof. She could see her path right where it led to the foot of Sokyoku Hill. Fong liked a clean ending, the graceful finish of an instant kill. She was condemned already in everyone's eyes.
Even Ichigo's, she thought somberly.
"No one's here to save you now, Kuchiki." Fong's
guards formed a loose ring around them, blocking off her escape routes. "Now go back inside like a good penitent Soul Reaper until your sentence is passed."
Wait? Yes. Wait. Wait for death. Wait for the rescue she wouldn't have admitted to another soul she had longed for, damning her pride in the traitor's prison. Rukia's hand swiped out without consent from her brain. Things were happening much too fast. She was innocent and damned in the same breath. No one, she was amazed. No one even came close to guessing the depth of depravity Aizen was capable of.
"You're no better than the creatures you scorn." She breathed. Her zanpakuto materialized in her hand. She darted forward with a measure of speed believed impossible by her. But, then the Cuatro Espada had trained her. She didn't want to imagine Soi Fong pitted against him. Rukia fought against her inner fear. If he was killed…,
The white blade of ice pierced the woman's side. Hot blood gushed over Rukia's hands, spattering her white yukata. The Captain shuddered, lips working a bloody froth of saliva forward. The hand that had begun drawing Suzumebachi clawed the hilt in a desperate spasm of hate. Rukia stared into the woman's dark eyes and drew the blade upward and out, the cut clean. Time had slowed in those few seconds of madness. Now as she came back into her own body, the horror of what she had done touched her lightly.
Complete silence fell over the assembled.
Rukia's eyes traced the slippery rivulet of fresh blood zig-zagging down the cutting edge.
Then, she was running. Fleet-footed, her body remembered a time when she was faster than the mean old adults in the Rukongai. She was the fastest, the toughest with her no nonsense attitude. She could almost imagine she was running away from her past and all its attendant horrors.
Somehow she reached the Senkaimon, they were seconds behind her. Rukia felt the massing of spirit pressures swarming Seireitei. Farther afield in the maze of streets, a claxon sounded…throwing her gaze around, she saw the Soul Reaper, one of the many faceless unseated members hesitate. He had been standing guard over the gate, face blanching in terror.
"Open it." Rukia ordered; she backed up her threat by the edge of her white blade. The Shinigami's hand dropped nervously to his zanpakuto, the hilt clattering as he trembled.
"Now!"
"O-Okay!" The Soul Reaper's hands flew together as he performed the necessary hand seals. Rukia took her eyes off him for a few seconds to throw up a white wall of ice. It would buy her seconds, she knew, glimpsing the gate shimmer, manifesting into a portal between realms.
She ran through once it had fully solidified. The shapeless, shifting world of the Dangai precipice world surrounded her. Rukia's bare feet tingled meeting the wavering surface. She kept running as she thrust the zanpakuto forward, tearing open a crude slice of the dimensional wall. Cool air met her fevered cheek.
It was nighttime in the living world.
Passing clouds obscured the bright jewel of the moon; her shadow became one of many slicing through the cold northern wind rustling the trees. Her thoughts had come in frantic bursts, now she wondered what had she done? Innocent until proven guilty wasn't something Seireitei's judicial system was known for. Even if the other charges had fallen away, there was still the pressing matter of the blood staining her clothing. Rukia alighted near a drinking fountain. The kind she had seen human children drink from in the summertime. She pressed the small button on the side, surprised at the coolness of the water splashing the small basin. Quickly, she washed off the worst of the stains from her face, paying especial attention to her fingers. Her dominant hand had blood beneath the nails.
"What have you done, Ms. Kuchiki?"
The cry remained in her throat. Rukia jolted slightly, spinning around to face Urahara. The shopkeeper had come alone, surfacing from the shadows into the diffuse moonlight. His sword Benihime glinted, naked in the light. Her eyes dropped to the zanpakuto, swallowing whatever warning had come to her lips. She couldn't say anything, not to his mild accusation nor to the knowing look in his eyes.
Kisuke had…ruined her life once.
An apology wasn't worth the almost execution, the loss of her powers. She was worth more than cheap words. That knowledge gave her strength.
"You owe me."
"Ms. Kuchiki-" his silver tongue could talk him out of almost any trouble. Rukia advanced closer to him, close enough for him to see the blood on Sode no Shirayuki. "Get me to Hueco Mundo."
"Rukia-" almost pleading.
It was the last and best place to go for the one who had no place to go.
"I won't ask again." Or ask for anything else from you or see you again or buy anything…all the little things, the memories flooded her mind as she retraced her steps to the shoten following him closely.
In her mind, he could do anything, the onetime disgrace, the shadowy man who had helped Ichigo regain his powers, the man who had helped them in their ill-fated rescue attempt. Rukia didn't hate him anymore than she needed him.
Urahara seemed to sense a lack of words, the necessity of haste. He opened the portal in less time than she had begun to feel the congregation of multiple spirit pressures entering the living world. Foremost among them was Ichigo. Rukia felt him searching for her; the pain was almost too great. She couldn't go back any more than she could apologize for madness.
Sweat dripped down the face of the shopkeeper. He stepped back as the primordial vortex of energy ate away at the fabric of the dimensional wall.
"Thank you." She whispered, glimpsing the swirling void of white sands.
…
She didn't have to travel far before she sensed him.
Ulquiorra
No binders for her wrists, no words of prisoner or of captivity. She was there and he was there dwelling in a rare moment of peace. He had come swiftly from the large shadow of Las Noches, sped swiftly to greet her, take her back. She felt him claim her in another way when he pulled her close to him.
In the darkness of the permanent moonlight, she embraced him. The thin body beneath her flattened palms was tangible, real. She suppressed the urge to cry her relief, so much had happened, time had passed, but the emptiness she felt had lifted.
He took her back to Las Noches.
In the absence of things to say, Rukia found herself examining the last hour of her life. The fight reflex had left her feeling empty. The silence of his palace settled between them. Rukia could sense the addition of heightened security. The corridors of Las Noches held an atmosphere of dread.
"Why are you here?" He finally stepped back from her, studying her small face, her stained garment. Rukia's lips moved, but no sound came out. She had run away from her world, responsibilities, condemnation to be here - even after everything, you question me?
She shoved hard at his chest, rejecting, hating herself all at once. They killed it. The words were painted starkly in her mind. They killed my baby. She looked at him, tears filling her eyes. She had promised she wouldn't cry. She had promised herself so many things, but looking at him with his immaculate white uniform, the jagged tips of his black hair and green eyes that furrowed beneath dark brows. She knew he could sense something missing.
"Gone. Everything's gone. I have no place to go." She said, trembling, broken deep down. "I was branded a traitor after my rescue." Her words were bitter to her own ears. Ulquiorra's hands slipped from his pockets. His spell of utter nonchalance shattered.
It - he - she - genderless and destined to remain so.
Gone.
Her fists balled up. This was what came of her grand and glorious rescue. It was easy to let go when letting go was such a grandiose dream of freedom. Rukia wiped her hand across her eyes, her hand falling to her side. He caught it, grasping her wrist gently. Gentler than he had ever been.
Rukia glared hatefully into his face. He did this. He impregnated her when it should've been impossible.
"I killed her." Unsteady, her voice broke. Her insides were jelly, quivering with repressed anguish. "I killed the bitch." Soi Fong. Captain Fong. The woman who mocked her in the street. Who wanted to make her into a martyr for the pure race.
"Rukia." Her name. Her fucking name made her weak in the knees. Kicking and screaming wouldn't bring her baby back nor ease the depths of betrayal she felt burning beneath her skin. Rukia stared into his eyes, piercing her lip with her teeth until blood flowed.
Then, she kissed him…hungrily. She was starving for his lips. Her body melted into him, arms pulled her closer. She groaned into his mouth, feeling his tongue grope hers. She suddenly felt so horny, it was impossible to think straight. Pulling back long enough to run her hands down his chest, he watched her as a predator does prey.
Baring her legs, she leaned forward on the table, her legs spread. She shut her eyes, tensing under the cold touch that asserted itself on her back, trailing goosebumps down her spine to her hip then cupping her ass. She wiggled, her hips jerking impatiently imagining his face. The bemusement. Clothing rustled, she waited for the completion of sin, the moment when his cock slid into her pussy. He didn't hesitate this time. Plunging into her moist folds, his hand straying to her hip to steady her. Rukia's toes curled from the explosion of pleasure rocking her senses. He fucked her smoothly, alternating thrusts, his free hand curving inside her thigh to finger her clit. She arched her back conscious of her own words, her demands for more… yes, harder, faster, anything to take the ache from her heart. Rukia felt filthy and loved every moment of it.
…
She showered quickly, throwing on a bathrobe that was longer than her short stature. Lightly fluffing out the ends of her hair, she walked into the sitting room of his palace.
"Where's Aizen?" She knew it had only been a few weeks since her rescue, but how things had changed since then. Ulquiorra sat on the edge of the bed, fastening his white jacket. "He is dead. Tosen is in charge. I was left as guardian of Las Noches."
Aizen…was dead…she could feel the presences of several of the Espada, breathing an internal sigh of relief sensing Szayel and to a lesser extent his two fracciones. "Who killed him?"
"Kurosaki."
Ichigo. A flash of his stricken face went through her head. She swallowed past the rising lump in her throat. Ichigo wouldn't have treated her the same once he learned of what she had done. Rukia shook off her feelings, they were useless after all. Padding barefoot to the closet, a slight smile crept onto her face. He had left her things where they were. Tunics, hakama, dresses. She selected a white halter top that descended into a sharp v at the hem.
"What if I hadn't come back?" She fingered the white fabric, thinking of the black shihakusho she would never wear again. A sparse utilitarian wardrobe for a Shinigami, almost nothing of adornment, nothing feminine.
"Don't say such silly things."
…
"You're back." Szayel quirked a smile, he was in the process of moving his lab deeper into a newly constructed part of the palace. Lumina and Verona had jumped her promptly upon sight, chattering happily. She had hugged the two round Arrancar; glad they had escaped the disastrous battle of fake Karakura Town.
They had led her by the hand, one on each side, to the room where Szayel was packing up crates marked in his neat careful hand. "Good. A lot of things have happened. You'd best," he stopped, stiffening at the sight of the Cuatro behind her.
He looked at them both, throat constricting. He knew without explanation what had transpired. "I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san."
She gestured for him to stop. "Not now. We have limited time before they finish what was started. We're not conceding one bit of territory to them." Rukia said; something in her eyes warned him. Szayel straightened, dusting his hands off. "Alright, what can I do for you?"
She thought a moment, wondering at herself. Three months ago she wouldn't have believed the ideas swimming around in her brain belonged to Rukia Kuchiki. "Do you have anything we could use as a weapon?"
"Oh, plenty! Kido cannons, traps, snares, Hollow bait, you name it."
"We need something fast," something insidious. "Something they wouldn't expect." She admittedly didn't know much about warfare whether Soul Society or Aizen's. With a diminished force holding down Las Noches, it was only a matter of time before they came for them and for her.
"Is there something that can Hollowify other than the Hogyoku?"
"There is…yes, I think I have it, a sample of the Hollowification gas Lord Aizen developed. The effects are devastating on Soul Reapers."
It takes hours.
"But, if you want something that can end it all…," Szayel murmured, shrugging. "That is it. I can recreate the original compound, funnel it into a bomb."
"A kingdom of Hollows." She thought of the people she knew becoming monsters, tormented, empty creatures, a wretched existence. Isn't that what survival was…? Rukia was a survivor. No matter what. She was already tried and convicted in their eyes. "Do it." She would think of the nightmare she had created later. Some other time when there wasn't so much to do. Without looking back, she knew he was behind her, his presence frightening the fracciones.
"Have it ready within three hours."
The Octava assented with a nod. He could do it. He was the primary weapons expert after all and had a reputation to protect.
"Rukia…" he waited until she had walked away before saying it. "I'm glad you're back with us and I'm truly sorry." Yes he was sorry for the lost opportunity to study a hybrid.
"Don't hold anything back from me again." She finally said unsure if anything would've held her back from returning to those she had called friends.
"There is one thing…we'll need someone on the inside to detonate it."
Rukia half-turned back at the doorway, her lips moved but no sound came out.
…
She found Tosen in the solarium. The light of the fake sun drew a sheen of sweat on the dark-skinned man's brow. His face was ashen, a grey pallor around the mouth and cheek. He looked a man defeated. Rukia stepped closer, staring out at the expanse of sand and false light.
"I wasn't aware you had returned." He said by way of acknowledgement.
"I just came back." Rukia said mildly. Ulquiorra had told her that Tosen had been nearly defeated by all accounts, retreating to Hueco Mundo from the battlefield. "So you're leader for now."
"For now, yes." He echoed, "defeat will come shortly. Did you come here to gloat?"
"No," Rukia had gloated too much in her previous life that she hadn't a wish to repeat it. "You don't kick someone who's already down. I came because I have a plan." And I have no place to go. No home. No friends, no family. "Soul Society thinks they're at their leisure to finish off the rest of the Espada. They think they've seen it all with Aizen's tricks, they'll assume what's left wasn't strong enough to fight for him anymore." She remembered what he had said about the Tercera Espada.
When she returned to the Cuatro's palace, she found a meal prepared by Arrancar servants.
"What is this?" She found a smile coming to her face, glancing over the little bowl of kompeito, the bowl of rice, the grilled fish and chopsticks.
"Sustenance." He put aside the polishing cloth
My last meal…
…
Tia Halibel had become the Segunda with Barragan's death. Rukia approached her with care, noting the fluctuations in her reiatsu, the way the woman's blue eyes narrowed on her form.
"I need your help."
"Mine?" Halibel snorted, her straw blond hair hung in a single braid now draped down her back. She was unusually beautiful despite the markings on her face. Rukia's gaze flickered to the short thick blade slung across her back.
"Weren't you once a prisoner?"
"I was, but I came back on my own volition. I didn't…participate in the battle." She laid one hand against the inside of her elbow, crossing her breast. "I was indisposed due to pregnancy. You may say I cannot understand your loss," two of the Segunda's fracciones lurked in the shadows of her palace. The third had been lost…,
"My child was taken from me, murdered by them." She exhaled, a thousand painful maybes dashed by cruelty. Halibel's stance hadn't softened, but something had changed in the fierce blue eyes.
"No matter what, I can't forgive them for what they did."
…
Energies swirled chaotically around the palace of the Primera. Rukia felt cold all over, her knees shaking from the effort of staying upright. The Primera had lost one half of his soul fighting against Ukitake and Kyoraku with a host of others who called themselves Vizards. Now, the Primera spent his time brooding in the darkness of his palace.
Rukia traversed several rooms with connecting corridors before she traced his spirit pressure. He lay as she had been told; he always did, sprawled on a set of green pillows. He wasn't sleep…he never slept anymore. Why sleep when there was never anyone to wake him up with tomboyish antics?
"Get out."
She had been told he had forcibly ejected some of Tosen's servants. She clutched the doorway, trying to regain strength in her legs before advancing further in the room.
"Something has to be done, Primera. I need your help in protecting Las Noches."
"Why the hell should I care?!" He roared at her. Gone was the indolent man; in his place lurked a dangerous creature with the face of a human male. Rukia stared into the grey eyes, flinching from his voice raw with pain.
"Then, if you don't care-" Rukia made a running jump onto his stomach, feet first. Her feet sank into his gut, the Primera exhaled, unhurt, stabbed in the same moment by the memory of his other half doing exactly the same thing.
"Why are you still here?"
Stark thought not to answer, glaring hatefully up into the face of this slip of this Shinigami, despising her race so intensely, he felt his head would burst. Lilinette was gone, she had left him behind…the little liar.
"Be gone!"
"No." The Shinigami sat on him, audacious, uncaring of his open -mouthed expression. "I don't care what you think, you're not alone. You think you're alone in this…well you're a meat head for convincing yourself with lies."
Rukia felt his large hands go to her sides, preparing to bodily lift her off of him. Her eyes dropped down to his. "I need you, Stark. We all do." His hands gripped her waist almost painfully.
"What do you want?"
"I want to build a place where we can belong."
-TBC
"It's ready."
Rukia looked the doom of Soul Society in the face. Everything had happened so fast that the surrealism of her surroundings had yet to set in.
"They have the Hogyoku," she said, "as best as we can tell it's being kept in Research and Development. There might be pitched fighting there as the compound extends below ground." The Arrancars had joined her, someone touched her shoulder, a human hand, no, a human-like hand.
She forced her regrets down. "I'll be the one to set it off."
"The gas affects Soul Reapers, Kuchiki-san. You won't be far from the epicenter."
I know.
She was going to the living world, acting as bait. Lure the Shinigami out of their realm; she wanted to feel bad about her duplicity. Soul Society would respond cautiously, afraid of what she could do. Szayel produced a hypogun loaded with a glass vial of a blue fluid. Gold tints caught the light refracting a lovely hue.
"What is that?" She had learned to be cautious of anything Szayel produced even if they were on the same side.
"A vaccine I synthesized. Aizen left notes on his experiments and on how he, Ichimaru and Tosen resisted the effects of the gas."
"I wondered about that," she said offhand, trying to resist a shudder. With his experimentation he had ruined lives.
"I don't know if it'll work, there was no time or person to try it on beforehand." A note of hesitation crept into his voice. She was surprised by it and heartened. "Or how long if it does." There was a lot to fear if even the Octava wasn't sure. He had always been sure of himself.
"Alright," she tied back the sleeve of her black kosode, watching as he tapped her vein. She looked away when the two-inch long needle descended into the blue -green vein tracing itself through the inner crook of her elbow. The sting brought tears to her eyes. Rukia blinked them away, biting her lip in distraction.
She could feel the sluggish blue serum burn curiously through her body, igniting her cells. She felt a curious heaviness in her head and nodded to Stark to open the Garganta. The Primera Espada wore a clean jacket with an elongated side down his left leg over hakama. They had orders to eliminate as many of the Soul Reaper as possible.
Ulquiorra who few had seen, wore a gigai Szayel had fashioned along with a gikongan to exit the body. She had seen him step into it in the Octava's lab. Watched as the pallor of his skin vanished, the lines decorating his face disappeared into smooth wholeness. Only the beautifully shaped green eyes remained beneath his black brows. It had pained her something deep inside, seeing what he could've been, a Soul Reaper of slight stature with calm dispassionate eyes.
Rukia had insisted he be the one to carry the bomb inside. If he had taken her place as lure, she knew they would've engaged him outright. She was certain her own presence was enough of a distraction.
She watched as the scientist embedded a microchip detonation in her right wrist. She winced at the pain, as the four visible dots remained in place. The pressure remained on her interior muscle and tissues.
"Slice it shallowly and the light will go from red to green."
"With what?"
"Be creative, Kuchiki-san. You always are."
…
She looked back once, seeing the Primera and the Segunda standing beside the Octava Espada.
"We'll be waiting." Stark said; she nodded. Her heart hammered heavily in her ears, a drumbeat. Ulquiorra stepped closely beside her, silent, observing. His presence felt muted at her side. Rukia tightened her left fist, the burning sensation lingered in her fingertips. She was aware that this might be the last time she was herself, in her own mind and faculties.
"I love you." She whispered, turning away so he wouldn't see the misery written in her eyes. Their gazes met and he whispered softly for her hearing alone. "I know."
Rukia stepped quickly into the void of light and shadow, blinking against the gloom; she discovered she had been left above a park. Groves of trees skirted pleasant paved edges. Neatly clipped green grass framed sloping hillocks, playground equipment loomed emptily nearby.
She descended slowly, her senses primed for sound, movement that wasn't of the norm. Landing on a path, she started walking, unable to separate memory from fantasy. Was this Sakuraboshi Park? Was this a place where she came with her friends? The memories were elusive, faint. She tried grasping onto them, saddened to realize nothing would ever be the same.
Reaching the swing sets, she stopped, considering them. Here was a memory free of taint. A summer day and Orihime pushing her on the swings. Kind, sweet Orihime who was dead because of a pair of Arrancars. She sat down on the left side, pushing herself slowly with the edge of her sandal.
Gradually, she was aware of someone approaching. A familiar face wearing an expression wracked by guilt. Rukia remembered a time when she would've berated him, kicked him into shape. Now, she didn't care as much.
Ichigo sat down in the swing opposite her, dwarfing the seat with his tall frame. The silence hung between them full of unsaid words, hateful recriminations.
"Why…?"
"Why what…?"
"Rukia…," he tried again. Ichigo had never been great with words.
"It's too late," she said firmly, glaring once. The silence was broken by the black clad shinobi from the Punishment Division arriving. Led by the piggish Omaeda, she was glad to see her arrest a third time occasioned more than a few goons of Second Division. Byakuya and Ukitake were there, the former subtly furious behind his cold eyes. Ukitake saddened and stern at the same time, drawing close to her.
She was clearly unarmed.
"Rukia Kuchiki, you are hereby sentenced to death for treasonous acts, dishonorable conduct and the murder of a Captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads." Omaeda blustered, reading from a scroll he had pulled from his sleeve.
Ichigo had seen her, seen her last crime. He knew and couldn't deny the charges. She remembered when he had saved her from execution once believing in her innocence.
She stood and bowed her head, raising her spirit pressure just the slightest. Somewhere close by, she sensed a vague cloud, the descent of Ulquiorra's spirit pressure. Among the throng, she raised her head almost casually scanning the faces; there were some she didn't know, seated officers who had come. Good. Ichigo was focused on her. He stared at her, regret burning acid into her heart.
"I'm sorry." She said to him. She wasn't sorry for anything except him.
"You might be!" Omaeda thundered, spittle flying, his double chins wobbled. "But, justice will be done. Take her away!" Some faceless shinobi clapped reiatsu suppressors on her wrists. Two flanked her while her brother and former Captain strode behind them. The rest followed into the gateway they had opened into Soul Society.
One more joined their group as if he belonged there.
…
Two hours.
They had brought her water, but no food. Rukia had been conveyed with due pomp to the Repentance Tower where she sat beside the sliver of city she could see from the cell. It was a place familiar to her, a room that had haunted her nightmares. Rukia looked down at her manacled hands, they hadn't taken them off. The door opened across the cell bars, admitting a tall black-haired man.
The gravity around him had deepened, his youthful authority diminished by care and worry lines. Byakuya observed her, perhaps waiting for her to speak. If so, she was determined to hear him out first.
"I am very disappointed in you, Rukia."
She touched her stomach, the area where life had been growing. She had never considered herself a maternal person nor wished for the miracle of a child, but now that it had been stolen from her, she realized she was mostly disappointed in them.
"I'm disappointed in you too."
She looked away from him, leaning her back against the wall. Something in Byakuya's eyes hardened as if he was steeling himself to her end and he finally looked away as well, walking in the way she would always remember him.
Tall, resolute and proud.
Rukia looked down at her bound hands, the cuff covered the marks. Two hours, time she measured by the slant of the sun.
Ukitake came thirty minutes before the sun had traveled, casting deep shadow on the peaked rooftops. He stood beyond her, a disapproving father, mourning the Soul Reaper she had been.
"We thought to petition Central 46 on an insanity plea. But, because Aizen is dead -"
Is he?
Everyone said he was. The accursed man she was going to throw herself on his nonexistent mercy was quite dead.
"It hurts," she said, motioning to her hands, letting them shake. She was always a good actress. A red collar fit tightly around her throat fastened down the front, reminiscent of a medieval torture device.
"Please." She couldn't even properly drink the water they had brought.
"Rukia," gone was the fatherly image. "What you did was wrong! You murdered someone in cold blood! I can't…forgive you." How true. She hung her head, pathetic tears streaking her cheek. Peering upward through her lashes, Rukia saw him shake his head, the white strands of hair flutter as he turned on heel.
A few minutes later, a Squad member came to loosen her shackles. She thanked him gracefully, tears swimming in her eyes. Wiping them with her sleeve, she sat with her back to the rest of the room.
A sharp edge.
She watched until the last dregs of daylight faded to sunset. Rukia lifted her wrist to her lips, biting down sharply. Saliva and blood flooded her mouth; she bit around the four dots, tearing at the skin. The pain came in eye-watering bursts, but she'd had worse.
When it was done, she lowered her wrist from her mouth.
Red switched to green, she caught her breath, watching through her sliver of the world.
…
Sunset fast fell over the court of pure souls. Ulquiorra stayed long enough to watch the device rotate on itself spewing its noxious grey-green contents into the western wind. Discarding his gigai form, he sonido'd with the wind, following its unforgiving arc. Soul Reapers who inhaled it, breathed deeply of the air as if scenting something amiss. Then, they fell like dogs, their bodies writhing on the ground. Somewhere, Stark and Halibel began the scourge, and he went for the tower. Rukia, never a princess, waited in the tower.
He had to ensure she was safe first.
…
The guard from before came in, his face was pasty, eyes bulging with fright. He gripped the hilt of his zanpakuto with a meaty fist. Rukia got to her feet, intently peering out into the sliver of Seireitei she could see. A greyish green miasma hung over the sky, somewhere people shouted. A thin column of smoke rose from a building to her far left.
"What's going on out there?" She didn't feel strange. She felt impatient, she felt…herself. The Soul Reaper paced nervously, he didn't look at her once.
"What's going on?" Rukia raised her voice not so kindly.
The fellow flinched, spinning toward her. His pacing had left him in front of the door. "You stay there, you hear! Damned murderer-" he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Something broke the door down, splinters of wood caved in under the weight of a body. Torn black cloth hung in tatters from the disheveled form, hands hooked into claws as a guttural moan of hunger left its throat. The Soul Reaper scrambled backward against the bars of her cell, blubbering incoherently. Rukia stared wildly from him to the advancing figure, her eyes widening as she took in the white mask burgeoning like a second skin from the nose and cheek.
Like an insidious cancer, the bone formed taking with it all recognizable features.
She screamed - unable to stop the visceral response to horror. The figure of nightmares leapt upon the man tearing his throat out in a shower of gore. Glimpses of the teeth filled maw parting, tearing great hunks of meat from the Soul Reaper's body, the eye sockets were a fathomless dark. Rukia choked on her own saliva, gaze fixated on the dark blood pooling beneath the man's body.
The monster's head lifted, fixating on her. Rukia stumbled back against the wall, her heart pounding in her ears. The Hollow made a wild run for her, encountering the bars…the cage someone had thought to create in the Repentance Tower.
This is my fault, she thought, flattening against the wall. Nearer the opening into Seireitei, she began to hear similar sounds, animalistic howling, nightmarish cries that chilled the blood.
She shut her eyes against the sight, her breath stifled. She was close to hyperventilating, trapped in the throes of fear. She didn't fear the ordinary dangers most did, she feared her bound state, her lack of a sword in which to defend herself. Rukia watched the bars rattle, jarred by the snarling lunging body, arms outstretched for her.
"Trash," someone pronounced from the shadowed stairwell. She saw the flash of a blade, heard the splatter of blood and guts streak the filthy floor. Rukia inhaled sharply, starting forward. He withdrew his teal-hilted sword from the Hollowified Soul Reaper''s back, with the trace of a sneer.
Casting a glance over her to ensure she hadn't begun to change, he proceeded to unlock the cell door. Rukia skirted the congealing blood, her relief great.
"I did this," she murmured, resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve. "I caused a nightmare to come true."
He looked at her as if to say, you had no choice.
"I did," she said miserably. "I had the choice to lie down and die."
"That was never a choice," he asserted, hand lifting. The lightest graze of fingertips brushed her cheekbone. After a moment, he withdrew, glancing down into the darkened stairwell.
"There's too many of them."
"What about the Hogyoku?"
"It's in a vault somewhere in the city. Retrieval efforts will have to wait, there are Soul Reapers holed up nearby it." She thought to ask him how he knew then remembered his pesquisa and her reiatsu suppressor.
Rukia heard a crash down below, the slavering mindless sound of Hollows, she turned to him as the dimensional walls slid open much too slowly.
I'm sorry. She whispered again in the darkest corners of her heart.
Epilogue -
"They're getting smarter every year," Halibel intoned, hovering above the desert sands. Rukia had accompanied her, concerned on yet another breach into their world. For the most part, the Hollows, the new Hollows…stayed in the ruined realm of Soul Society. Whatever evolution Aizen had begun with his forays into Hueco Mundo had continued; they were in the process of training a new generation of Privaron Espada for outer defense.
Rukia imagined a society at its beginnings, the way Seireitei had begun thousands of years ago, a time when good came out of evil. The Hollows weren't evil, she understood that now. They were essentially amoral creatures, ten years of living with them, she had seen cruelty, malice, a desire to dominate tempered by a human-like curiosity, kindness and perhaps, she didn't dare breathe the word aloud beneath the bright moon in the sky, the ability to love.
"They were once the dominant species," Rukia muttered with a shrug.
"You speak for yourself?" Halibel asked a sardonic lilt to her smooth voice.
"Maybe," she smirked. There had been so many things; her belated revenge on Loly and Menoly, Tosen's failed coup, the birth of the twins - jokingly called the terrors of Las Noches, the recovery of the Hogyoku, now that she had become its keeper, the dormant orb of distortion slept in her soul. One day, even Squad Zero might make peace with them, who knew?
"Kurosaki leads them; Neliel confirmed it two days ago."
Rukia's mood darkened as her thoughts turned back to the boy who had saved her and hated her. He had become the leader of the Hollowified Soul Reapers, he might've been reckless and bold, but even he knew when to stop, to wait and watch for an opportunity to destroy them. Rukia could almost admire the cunning of Hollow-Ichigo if she hadn't known with such terrifying certainty that one day he would come for her.
"We'll survive," she said instead of giving nameless voice to her fears. "We always have."
-Finis! xD
AN: When debating on an ending for this story, the one thing I knew for certain was that Ulquiorra and Rukia were going to be together. For one thing, I couldn't imagine Soul Society allowing the relationship, another was that how was the war going to end? I've seen writers describe the potential end of the winter war with Rukia's defection, but not how the war was won. Here, I decided on a harsh, violent ending to Soul Society (which I almost didn't write) but felt slightly fitting given the dark nature of the story. Anyway, thanks for reading and sticking with me (if you have) that's all I have to say for now.
No flames!
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